As I sat down by Saddle Stream <br />To bathe my dusty feet there, <br />A boy was standing on the bridge <br />Any girl would meet there. <br /> <br />As I went over Woody Knob <br />A youth was coming up the hill <br />Any maid would follow. <br /> <br />Then in I turned at my own gate,— <br />And nothing to be sad for— <br />To such a man as any WIFE <br />Would pass a pretty lad for.<br /><br />Edna St. Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-return-from-town/
